


dream a dream of a love so splendid

by sabinelagrande



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, Flashbacks, Homophobia, Homosexuality, M/M, Shaun Gilmore Is a Good Bro, Taryon Darrington Needs a Hug, e094-e095 Timeskip (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Tary finds himself in Emon.





	dream a dream of a love so splendid

For a while, Tary lives in Emon. He goes to Zephyra for a few days but is eventually shown the door, and while it's fun to hang out with Percy, he and Vex are wrapped up in Whitestone and each other. So after a few weeks, he leaves with a caravan and makes his way to Emon, joining Pike and Grog at Greyskull Keep.

"You're always welcome back," Percy tells him on the day he leaves, and Tary thinks he might not be leaving at all if Percy just told him to stay.

"You must spend some time with Gilmore," Vex says. "You'd get along famously." It sounds both genuine and like how all of them sound when they try to push Tary towards another man, usually with less than stellar results.

But when he's in Emon, he does look Gilmore up, because honestly, why not?

\--

Tary wasn't expecting a whole lot from his new tutor. His father always hired the best ones, but sometimes they ran together. His last literature tutor had left to get married, and Tary was already forgetting her, though he never forgot lessons that interested him.

"This is Professor Lawrence," his father said, introducing the new tutor. "Listen to what he has to say. You'll need it."

Tary sized him up. He was tall and fair, with a kind of strength that seemed unlikely given his profession; he was the same age as most of Tary's favorite tutors, maybe thirty years old. Tary had no real reason to doubt that his time with Professor Lawrence would be any different than his time with other tutors, and he looked forward to his lessons as he always did.

His father and the professor exchanged some pleasantries, rather clipped ones on his father's end, and his father left, off to oversee something that was doubtlessly more important, or at least more interesting to him.

"I'm sure you'll have a lot to teach me, Professor Lawrence," Tary said, when his father had gone.

He smiled, a warm, genuine smile. "Please, call me Larry."

Tary found himself looking not at the man's face, but his hands; they were big, strong, and Tary felt drawn to the ink stain on his first finger. The two things didn't go together, academic and worldly, and he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know more.

"Alright then," Tary said. "Larry it is."

Larry smiled again, and Tary felt his heart jump in the strangest way.

\--

Tary doesn't know what it looked like before, but much of Abadar's Promenade is now conducting business in tents or covered stalls, buildings under construction behind them. Gilmore's Glorious Goods is an exception, the building already repaired and open for business; Tary wonders if Vox Machina or the de Rolos underwrote some of the cost, which he considers the least they could do, if all the stories of what Gilmore did for Whitestone are true.

Inside, the shelves are maybe half stocked, though what merchandise he has looks appealing. A woman is rearranging a case full of daggers, moving their little parchment labels around and looking unsatisfied. She doesn't seem to notice Tary, and he leaves her be. Standing at the counter in the back is Gilmore himself, who does notice him.

"Taryon," he says, with a big smile. "Didn't expect to see you here in Emon."

"Just stretching the old legs," Tary says, walking towards him. "Wouldn't want to put down roots in Whitestone when there's so much adventuring to do."

"You have a wanderer's heart, I see," Gilmore says. "Let's have a cup of tea and catch up. Sheri, take over for me."

The woman shakes her head and straightens up, like she's been frustrated into distraction by the uncooperative cutlery. "Of course," she says, definitively closing the case and walking to the counter. 

"This way," Gilmore says, holding open the curtain in the doorway behind the desk and ushering Tary in.

\--

Lessons with Larry were different. His other tutors were focused on very specific goals; his math tutors taught him how to keep ledgers, while his literature tutors taught him the Truscan classics. Larry took his readings from farther afield, some not even in Common at all.

"You know the classics better than I do," Larry said dismissively, when asked to explain. "You're better off expanding your horizons."

Larry sat close to him as they read, on the other side of a small desk from Tary; it wasn't different from other tutors, but Tary felt like it was, increasingly aware of Larry's proximity as the days went on. The kinds of books Larry chose didn't help; it wasn't as if he was presenting Tary with pornography, but some of the writers were less concerned with virtue and consequence than the great Truscan authors.

"This is important," Larry said one day, as they leaned together over a translation of an Elven epic. "I want you to pay attention to the way the translator works within the bounds of the original while still delivering a compelling story." He came around the desk, sitting down close to Tary. He reached out, underlining a passage with his finger. "Here, the Elven literally says 'He stroked her hair carefully with his off hand', but the translation is 'His clumsy fingers ran gently over her long tresses.' You can see that the meaning hasn't changed, but the style is more immediate than a straight translation."

Larry continued talking, but Tary missed all of it. Larry was still looking down at the book, but Tary couldn't stop looking at him, so distracted by how close they were, the warmth of Larry's body where their legs touched. He kept watching Larry speak, taking in the way his lips moved, the way his voice sounded, without ever comprehending a word.

He realized then that Larry noticed him looking. Larry didn't look away immediately, and Tary was sure that he was about to be chastised, insulted, pushed away. Then the corner of Larry's mouth went up, in a little smile that didn't look repulsed at all. The feeling of being recognized but not censured was vertiginous, as if Tary was at the edge of a great height and looking down; he'd never felt that way before, and had been fairly sure he never would.

"Let's see what we can find for you in Gnomish," Larry said, closing the book.

\--

The room behind the counter could charitably be called cosy, and the two of them settle in, sitting in a pair of armchairs that looked like they had been scavenged. Gilmore makes tea, the process magically expedited, and pours them both a cup, handing Tary his before sitting.

"So, Gilmore," Tary starts.

"Please," Gilmore says, smiling. "I'm Shaun to my friends."

"I'm Tary to mine," Tary replies. He pauses for a moment, not sure if he should say what he's going to. "I want to be blunt about something. Our mutual friends thought we should spend time together because I like men."

Shaun laughs, a big rich sound. "I've heard _much_ worse reasons. We're collecting a little enclave of the similarly inclined here in Emon. Allura has us all over for dinner on Tuesdays."

"So it's okay here?" Tary asks.

"Compared to some places I've been, it's a cakewalk," Shaun says. "Did you not feel that way about Whitestone?"

"Honestly, I was never among the people in Whitestone long enough to know," Tary says, and he doesn't feel the need to bring up the Trish incident. "It's very not okay in my homeland."

"Trust me," Shaun says. "The reason was slightly different, but I know all about leaving your home because of what you are."

"I left to prove myself," Tary says automatically, but he really thinks about that statement, pulls it apart in his mind. "I guess one of the things I needed to prove was that I was a real man, and real men care about damsels in distress." He stares into his tea for a long moment, and Shaun gives him time to think. "I don't know how to be gay, but I can't pretend I'm not anymore."

Shaun laughs, though he looks sympathetic. "Once you get the hang of it, it's a great time, but getting there can be very, very hard."

\--

Weeks passed. Tary gained much from his lessons; maybe he even learned more than he would have from another tutor, being so preoccupied with Larry.

And the preoccupation lingered, stuck to Tary, fed by little moments, easily deniable ones that either of them could shrug off- the touch of a hand, looks held too long, a private smile. At times, Tary felt like he might go out of his mind with it, the need for more, the drive to have all of Larry that it was possible for him to have.

It wasn't much, but Tary wanted it anyway.

And in the end, Tary broke first. It was a typical day, studying a passage that wasn't even suggestive, but all Tary could think about was Larry, how he looked, how he smelled, how much Tary wanted to touch him. Larry closed the book at the end of the lesson and stood up to go, and Tary shattered under the pressure, unable to keep this growing, bursting thing inside him anymore.

Tary walked in front of him, and Larry didn't even look surprised, just stood there and let Tary do what he would. He was tall, and Tary had to go up on his toes to kiss him. He only did it for a moment, one fleeting touch, and for that moment he could have sworn he was ready to die happy.

The moment after that was sheer pain, the look on Larry's face saying too much about the anguish and indecision he felt. Tary readied an apology, a promise never to do it again.

And then Larry put an arm around Tary's waist, pulling Tary flush against him. Larry leaned down and kissed him; it was too obvious to say that Tary had never been kissed like that before, but Tary felt certain no one had ever been kissed like this before. It felt volcanic, a red-hot churning thing, and Tary wanted to drown in it, even though his heart was seized with fear.

They broke apart at last, and Tary looked up into his eyes; in that moment, he would have done anything at all that Larry said.

"Shut the door," is what Larry ended up saying, and Tary hastened to do it.

\--

"How do you do it?" Tary asks.

"I get up," Shaun says. "I have breakfast, I open my shop, and sometimes I have sex with men. In the day to day, it's not very complicated."

"I guess I do all those things already," Tary says. "Except the part about a shop."

"You are not defined by your experience," Shaun says gently, "but if you want to talk about it, I'm listening."

"I-" Tary swallows. "I had a tutor when I was younger."

Shaun sighs. "Didn't we all."

"It went farther than a schoolboy crush," Tary says. "Much farther. He wasn't taking advantage of me," he adds, since he knows what it sounds like now. "I suppose I was an adult, but he taught me so much."

\--

Tary knew that what they were doing was wrong; Larry was his teacher, not his peer, and there was the little matter of both of them being men. More and more, Tary thought the problem was not that it was wrong, but that it was not done. In the books he read, they were not the same thing; propriety was sometimes the enemy of romance, a thing to be cast aside in the name of love.

But when Larry took his virginity, he laid Tary out on his stomach, leaving a trail of kisses down his shoulder, down his spine, ending at the hollow above his ass. He opened Tary up so carefully, so gently, so respectfully, that it didn't even hurt when he pushed inside. Tary knew intellectually that love and pleasure weren't the same thing, but he was so consumed with them both that he couldn't separate them if he'd tried.

And he didn't feel like anything had been taken from him at all.

\--

"What was his name?" Shaun asks, a soft expression on his face.

"His name was Larry," Tary says. "Lawrence."

Shaun goes very still for a long moment.

"Come with me," he says, putting down his tea and standing up.

"What is it?" Tary says, as Shaun pulls him out of his chair.

"Maybe nothing," Shaun says. "But enough to take a chance. Come on."

\--

Tary's father could have seen so many things; Tary sometimes let his lust overtake his good sense, and they had more than one close call. In the end, though, what he saw was so mundane, just the smallest reflection of what was really happening, but it was enough.

They were walking together in the garden, having finished a lesson early. Tary still remembers very clearly the way he looked around, checking all angles before slipping his hand into Larry's. Larry squeezed it, and he bent down, giving Tary a kiss that was warm, quick, nothing but chaste.

Tary looked up in time to see his father standing in front of the two of them, and in his panic Tary did exactly the wrong thing, pulling Larry closer to him out of fright and need for support. Tary's father didn't even say anything, didn't need to say anything, just looked at Larry with a look Tary had seen before, and Tary knew that this was it. Tary's father walked away, and Tary heard him snap his fingers; in moments, one of father's enforcers was taking Larry by his shoulders and pulling him away from Tary.

And Tary saw his future crumble into pieces; he saw every warm morning disappear, every night of passion, every kind word, every secret smile. Gone was an escape from his father's demands, a life lived happily and quietly together in some remote villa, a time to grow old side by side.

And he never even got to tell Larry how desperately he wanted it.

\--

The Cloudtop District is still rebuilding, but Shaun moves through it with purpose, only pausing for the briefest moments to wave or smile at what Tary assumes are his customers. Tary doesn't know the streets well, so he just follows in Shaun's wake. They're heading into the center of the city; the construction is heavier here, some buildings razed entirely and being built up from scratch.

Tary only knows the Alabaster Lyceum by reputation, and it's a bit underwhelming, considering that it's still missing large chunks. He recognizes the whitestone that's sitting in blocks around it, doubtlessly only recently arrived now that trade routes are opening again. Unlike some of the buildings in the Cloudtop, Tary can already tell that magic is being used heavily in its construction, even above the properties of the whitestone itself.

Shaun walks in like he owns the place, which Tary gets the sense he does a lot. No one stops him as he walks through the courtyard and into the building, sidestepping workers and scholars, moving like a man on a mission. He finally stops, coming to a library, where the hole in the roof has been covered over with the slight shimmer of a magical barrier.

There are a number of scholars who are reading or taking notes; in the center of the room, with his back to Tary and Shaun, is a tall man with black hair. He's bent over a scroll, pointing out areas of interest to the two scholars who flank him.

"Lawrence Golding," Shaun says. The man turns around, and Tary forgets how to breathe. He looks exactly as he does whenever Tary dreams about him, except with a touch of early gray at his temples and a vicious-looking scar curving over one eye and across his cheek.

"Gilmore," he says, clasping Shaun's hand; he hasn't glanced in Tary's direction yet. "What brings you to the Lyceum?"

Tary doesn't wait another instant, just rushes forward and all but tackles Larry, his Larry, alive and vital and perfection itself.

"Tary?" Larry says softly. Tary feels the tears start, but does nothing to stop them. They're not becoming an adventurer, but they seem appropriate, necessary. 

Tary is learning that a real adventurer doesn't give a fuck what people think becomes an adventurer.

"I thought you were dead," Tary says.

"It's my very good luck that your father thinks so too," Larry says, sounding dazed, and he kisses Tary's hair. "And that I didn't come this far and get killed by a dragon before I found you."

"My work here is done," Shaun says, satisfied. "I'll expect both of you at Allura's Tuesday. Six o'clock sharp."

Shaun leaves, and Tary doesn't even notice him going.

\--

Larry, as it turns out, is sharing a room with two other people in an inn that's still being renovated, and he doesn't protest when Tary insists he come to Greyskull Keep instead. Grog and Pike are out, which is for the best, and the servants look hesitant but don't stop them. He takes Larry up to the room he's claimed, which used to be Vax's; Vax better not want it back, because Tary's about to do unforgivable things to his bed.

In books, lovers reunited come together in fits of passion, tearing each other's clothes off and pushing each other against walls. That's not what happens. Instead, they kiss for long minutes, slow, all-consuming, their clothes disappearing piece by piece before Larry pulls him into bed, running his hands over Tary's body as if checking to see that he's still all there. Tary does much the same thing; Larry has more scars, nasty ones, and Tary traces his fingers over them, afraid but unable to look away. Larry got those scars because of him, and Tary doesn't know if he'll ever be able to forget that.

Larry can tell when he's going off into his own head, and he takes Tary's hands, kissing his fingers. "Don't think about it too much," he says. "It wasn't your fault."

"I started it," Tary says, rolling onto his stomach; he isn't sure why he feels petulant, unable to concede the point when it's something he can't forgive himself for.

Larry chuckles, a low sound that Tary didn't even realize he missed so badly. "Did I ever tell you that your hair is like grain waving in the wind?" he says, kissing Tary's shoulder. "That your eyes are pools I could drown in?" He pauses for more kisses, peppering the back of his neck and making Tary shiver. "That I envy the light that limns your body at sunrise?"

"You read that in a book," Tary says.

"You love books," Larry says, not drawn away from his kissing.

"I must confess that I do," Tary says. He turns over, looking up into Larry's face. "I love you. I always regretted never saying it in time."

"There's time now," Larry says. "And I love you, too."

Larry's cock is hard against his hip, and Tary takes it into his hand; he missed the feel of it, the weight, the way it's firm and soft at the same time. Larry makes a low sound of pleasure and kisses him, realigning the two of them so that he's between Tary's spread legs. He gently pushes Tary's hand away, and this is better, their cocks sliding together, made slick with precome. This is what feels right, not just another man but Larry, his Larry, whom he's so desperately wanted for so long.

They rut against each other, the friction good, satisfying, the way the sensation builds. Tary can't stop looking at Larry's face, bisected now with a scar but still so perfect. Larry looks back at him, their eyes locking, and Tary can see everything, how much the separation weighed on him, how Larry was just as afraid as he was. He can't stop thinking about how they lost everything, but he knows they can build it up again, make it even better than before.

He takes Larry's hand; he keeps his eyes on Larry's as he raises it to his mouth and licks his palm, feeling wanton and shameless but not guilty enough to stop. Larry wraps his hand around both their cocks and kisses Tary hungrily. It feels so good, Larry's big, sure hand stroking both of them, the slide of the two of them together, and Tary thrusts into it, needing to see him come, needing Larry's mark on him. It's almost more important than coming himself; he cups his hand around the back of Larry's neck and holds him close, resting their foreheads together, urging him on.

Larry makes it there first, letting out a gasp as he comes; he stripes Tary's stomach with white, and Tary feels it as hot and heavy as a brand, like it will be permanently etched on him. He doesn't have much time to think about it before he's coming too, overtaken with pleasure, this moment that feels like a bond, unbreakable now that things are so different.

It's only the first time, not even the only time that night, but Tary will think about it later, how it felt like sealing a pact, rejoining a tear. He will have plenty of things to think of, but he'll turn this one over in his mind, let the memory strengthen him.

\--

It's not hard to find Allura Vysoren; the white tower in the Cloudtop District sticks out, especially with how complete it is compared to other buildings.

"This will be fine," Tary says, as they approach the door. "Everything will be fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or you?" Larry says. "Because I already know everything will be fine."

Tary doesn't know how to respond, so he knocks instead. The door opens, and a halfling woman with a scar not unlike Larry's is standing there. "Can I help you?" she asks, gruff but not inhospitable.

"Taryon Darrington of Vox Machina," Tary says, with a bow. "And allow me to present Professor Lawrence Golding."

"And a robot," the woman says flatly.

Tary looks back at his as-yet-unnamed creation, which is standing there, book open. "And a robot," he confirms.

She looks back and forth among the three of them like she's a little suspicious, and Tary suddenly wonders if Shaun invited him to someone's party without telling the host.

"Allie," she calls, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Guests."

"Coming," a woman's voice calls back. Tary gets his first look inside the tower; there are several people conversing, none of whom Tary knows, except Shaun, who's talking to a red-skinned tiefling. 

A woman appears from the other room, dressed in blue robes, with long, braided blonde hair. "You must be Shaun's friends," she says. She too is surprised by the robot, but covers it well. "I am Allura."

"Larry and Tary," Larry says, before Tary can respond, indicating both of them in turn. 

Allura looks faintly amused. "Please, come in," she says.

Shaun notices them first, coming over and opening his arms. "Boys," he says. "You look good."

"I can't say I'm doing bad," Larry says.

"Come, let me introduce you to some people," Shaun says, and he holds out an arm to the tiefling. "This is Zahra Hydris, and over here we have-" and after that Shaun makes a round of introductions that Tary is not going to remember. Maybe if he's lucky, Larry will; he's always been so sharp, and he's more likely to take an interest in people than Tary.

By the time everyone is assembled, there are eight of them for dinner, and Allura ushers them all to the table, assisted by her halfling partner, who Tary thinks might be named Kim. Allura takes the chair at the end of the table, Kim next to her, and Tary ends up between Larry and Shaun. Dinner is good, though Tary can distinctly taste that much of it has been seasoned with prestidigitation instead of actual spices; he supposes that's not such a hardship, when getting food for eight people is probably hard enough in the condition that Emon is in.

They eat and talk, and some of Tary's initial nervousness goes away. These people are like him, and they're normal; they talk about normal things and wear normal clothes and go about their normal dinners in a normal fashion. Tary would rather be outstanding and grandiose than normal, but in this particular instance, maybe normal is what he really wants.

As Allura serves coffee, Tary slips his hand into Larry's, and Larry squeezes it. Tary feels exposed and comforted at the same time, and he wonders if everyone here knows what that feels like, if they can understand him without him explaining.

If there's a place like that, then it's almost certainly here.

He leans over to Shaun. "Am I doing this right?" he whispers.

Shaun looks like he wants to laugh, but he grins instead. "I think you're doing just fine."

**Author's Note:**

> NO SAD GAYS ON MY WATCH


End file.
